


The Longest Night

by morganaDW (morgana07)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anti-Castiel, Bottom Sam, Brotherly Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Furious Dean, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Protective Dean Winchester, Schmoop, Season/Series 11 Spoilers, Some Spoilers, Top Dean, Triggers, Violence, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-06-10 18:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6969463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgana07/pseuds/morganaDW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the plan to beat Amara failed, Dean found himself not only facing a long night working to help Sam cope with having to deal with Lucifer but also some past issues he hadn’t known his brother was dealing with. That resulted in him making some surprising decisions on who he trusted & what he would do to help Sam.<br/>*Spoilers for 11x22 We Happy Few (And read the warning and note as this is not for angel fans)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Confrontation

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Language, eventual explicit content by the end of this story. There are spoilers from recent episodes so watch for those but more importantly THIS IS NOT CASTIEL FRIENDLY. If you are a fan, if you are a minion, if you find any excuse for the angel over the years then this IS NOT the story for you. Avoid it now.
> 
> Spoilers: Yeah, some.
> 
> Tags: Not really tagged to given things but it is set after 11x22 We Happy Few
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.
> 
> Author Note: So usually my Wincest fics don’t get avoidance notes or warnings put on but given the venting the muse did in this one, I’m flat out saying now like I said in the warning if you’re a fan of the angel who has long since outlived his usefulness then this won’t be the story for you because I’ve vented on feelings for things he’s done wrong but was given a pass for over various seasons. Dean does not pull punches.
> 
> This story was also written as a way to express dislike in how it was swept under the rug basically by our writers that Sam was forced to work with, deal with Lucifer given the amount of pain, torture, abuse, not to mention mental anguish he endured at his hands. It isn’t all venting. There’s some huge brother moments, some humor and some things I'm not sure where the muse came up with but I’m just warning ahead of time, DO NOT READ if you are a Castiel fan because it is in no way friendly towards him.

**The Longest Night**

**Confrontation**

“No! No! Get…getawayfromme! Get…don’ touch! Don’…let…nooo!”

The shouting sounded loud to Dean Winchester’s ears but he supposed it would be even louder if he was actually on the other side of the closed door in the dungeon he’d once really loved but now decided he was dismantling it as soon as they were done fixing another end of the world type of mess.

Sitting with his back to the door like he had been for the last three nights after he’d figured out after a frantic search of the bunker this was where Sam had retreated to in order to at least attempt to sleep.

The older Winchester had known that by having to resort to freeing Lucifer from Amara in order to try to convince him to help God…Chuck…to put her back in her box it would not be a good thing for his brother.

Dean knew he hadn’t showed it. He knew he’d kept up his hard, cold, professional hunter’s face the first time the mention of Lucifer or freeing him had been brought up had caused Sam’s whole body language to change. He suspected Sam thought he’d missed the warning signs just the mention of the former Archangel caused.

Or how after it was done and the selfsame bastard who had helped to torture and rape his brother for more years in that Cage than Dean liked to think about, that his now very quiet, very on edge little brother had spent 45 minutes puking his guts up but blamed it on Chuck’s teleport rather than what they both knew it was.

Sam had refused any mention of the Cage, his memories or what having Lucifer inside the bunker was doing to him emotionally. The one time Dean had gotten him alone, after they’d seen the new prophet off, and had tried to get Sam to talk to him his brother had just insisted that he was fine and would handle it.

“We need him to help defeat the Darkness,” Sam had said while backing away from his brother’s almost normal, brotherly touch; the earlier cringe had already warned Dean to not take the touch to the other level. “We need him,” he’d repeated tightly, fingers clenching into a fist before making himself meet Dean’s worried gaze. “Saving the world is more important than…than how I might feel. And I’m fine. I’m…all aces.”

“Sam’s…upset,” Chuck had said when Dean came stalking back thru the bunker after having the door to Sam’s room shut in his face and hearing the lock thrown; something that had never happened between them in years.

Throwing a disgusted look toward the creator of everything, the hunter turned a much harder look on the smirking face that was slouched in a chair at the table. “Yeah, you could say Sammy’s a little upset. Now ask this asshole why my brother would be upset at not only having to rescue his ass but having to touch him and then have him in our home!” Dean shot Chuck a dark look before turning his glare back on what had been the face of an angel that the hunter had once considered an ally. “Ask your kid what he did to Sam for over a goddamn century in that goddamn Cage!”

“Hey! Michael had a hand in that too!” Lucifer shot back like a sulky child not wanting all the blame placed on him. Then just as fast as he was sulking he shot a slow, sneering suggestive smile toward the hunter while starting to stand. “Maybe little Sammy and I should just have a quiet little…chat to…work out any…ugh!”

Before Chuck could do anything more than blink, Dean’s fist had lashed out on the still recovering and clearly shocked Archangel and hit him in the face with enough force that it knocked him back into the chair with a pissed off, infuriated hunter in his face; the tip of an angel killing blade pressed against the center of his chest.

“You do not go close to my brother,” Dean’s tone was low, gravelling and pure furious big brother as he narrowed his eyes to glare into the eyes that were stone cold and shark like but the sneer remained until the blade was applied with more pressure. “You are in this bunker because you helped Chuck before. You are not still rotting on Amara’s spit like the pig you are because you might be useful in defeating her but understand this one thing really closely.

“If you go within 10 feet of Sam, if you look at him cross-eyed, if you speak to him in any damn way that mocks him or you insinuate anything sexual towards him or try to remind him of what the fuck you two pricks did to him for 120 years…I will ram this goddamn blade thru your chest and this world can burn by her,” the hunter heard Chuck, felt the hand actually tug him back with a lot more strength than anyone would’ve naturally thought the smaller man would have had normally. “Touch my brother and Archangel or not will end you.”

Chuck hadn’t yet told either Winchester that he’d made it so his errant child had no access to his power so the fact that Dean had just gotten into Lucifer’s face like he had, angel blade not withstanding actually told him he’d seriously underestimated a few of the things that he might not have seen.

“Okay, so let’s all take a step back and you go check on Sam or…the car or both and…” he’d been trying to nudge Dean towards a door that led to where he knew Sam had gone when it was all he could do not to groan with what he heard next.

“Nice bravado, hero, but we both know you wouldn’t use that blade on me,” Lucifer sneered while running his hands down the lapel of the trench coat this vessel seemed attached to. “If you did then any slim chance at rescuing your buddy Castiel would be gone and you wouldn’t want to hurt him,” he said arrogantly only to frown a little when the hunter turned with a look that Lucifer wasn’t sure he liked.

The slow quirk of Dean’s lips wasn’t kind. It was cold, cocky with more than a little arrogance as he fought back his first reaction to just end everyone’s issue right then. “You think?” he smirked at the sneering Archangel while turning to meet his gaze fully, finger trailing over the blade like he had other blades in a much different place.

“You seriously think to get you the hell out of Sam’s life, his fears, his dreams that I wouldn’t kill Castiel? You think that after everything he’s done to fuck with our lives, including knocking the wall in my brother’s head down, opening Purgatory, costing us Bobby’s life and so much more that I wouldn’t kill whatever of him is left inside that burning out vessel to get rid of you?” Dean took a step forward and this time his smile was pure ice cold hate when he saw Lucifer stand up as if unsure of what he would do. “Let me make one thing clear to you, Chuck and maybe even Castiel if he can hear, he is nothing to me. I will kill anyone or anything to keep my brother safe from you.”

It took every ounce of will power Dean had not to keep that promise when he first realized that the goddamn arrogant bastard took over Sam’s room but what really almost tipped the scale was when he realized his brother had chosen to not only sleep on the floor in the dungeon but that he’d put up new wards to even keep God out of the room; something he learned when Chuck tried to enter and things went weird.

Now given what had just happened in the confrontation with Amara, Dean was left not only trying to pick up the pieces of a scattered plan that hadn’t worked but cope with the fact that she had come very close to killing Chuck, had maybe, hopefully, killed Lucifer but had also left Sam more than a little withdrawn once they’d gotten back to the bunker.

Dean hadn’t been happy to learn that Sam had offered to bear the damn mark if Chuck could lock her back up since that was one thing he wouldn’t have wished on anyone, much less the only person in his life that he loved.

So at first, once they’d picked up the pieces of their make-shift mini army and returned to the bunker to see where that left them, Dean thought Sam’s distance and the way he’d jerked when Dean had gone to check his arm to be sure nothing of the mark had stuck around was because his brother knew he was not happy with that plan or the fact that he hadn’t been told of it before hand.

It wasn’t until Crowley had put the varying pieces together and had him in Dean’s face that both hunter and brother realized how much worse this situation had been on his brother than he even could’ve imagined.

“Squirrel! Did you lose what overprotective jackass brains you had?” he demanded while grabbing the surprised hunter by the front of his jacket to shake him. “You actually brought Lucifer in here? In here with _my_ Moose? In here with my Moose where even a goddamn bloody look from that monster could reignite any of those damn bloody marks he still has that those two raving nuts left on…oh bloody hell. You didn’t know because you can’t see them,” Crowley had seen the way Dean’s face changed and saw the truth a second before what he’d said registered with the hunter. “Bollocks.”

Dean had been debating between punching or stabbing Crowley when he suddenly felt all the blood rush to his head as those words sank in and just like that a very sick feeling was settling in the hunter that explained so much.

From the first time since reuniting with Sam, even before learning his brother’s soul had been left in Hell, there had been moments that Dean had seen little things that had tried to tip him off that something else was wrong with Sam.

At first he’d excused the cringes, the way Sam would jerk away even while soulless or the absent way he would rub at his throat or one arm that tingled a warning in the older brother that Dean hadn’t been able to place or decipher as something their mother’s family was doing.

Once Sam’s soul had been restored, Dean had still noticed the way Sam would stay back…far back whenever they had dealings with Crowley or even…

Spinning to pin Castiel with a burning glare, the hunter heard Crowley mutter something to him that nearly had Dean doing exactly what he’d promised Lucifer he would.

“Did you know?” he demanded in a tone that was pure hate, pure big brother pissed off fury with more than a little betrayal coming out while he was slowly reaching for the angel blade he always kept handy these days. “Castiel! Did you know when you yanked Sam outta Hell…without his soul, that he had sigils on him that are still live? Did you know and did nothing to remove or deactivate them? In all this time, with all the crap he’s done to help save the world from your and Heaven’s fuck ups, you knew he could still be hurt and you did nothing? Did you know what he did to my brother?”

The silence in the large room and the angel’s refusal to meet the searing glare of the hunter gave Dean all the answers he needed and the only thing that kept him from lunging was a sudden sound from deeper in the bunker; a sound that had his head turning and his decision made.

“I have a little brother to help. I want nothing to do with any of you until in the morning so that means don’t go snooping where you have no place, don’t go casting spells that I won’t like, don’t even try to lie to me that you did what you did for the good of anyone’s ego but your own and Chuck, stay off my laptop,” Dean growled before stalking from the room, pausing at the comment that they needed to make plans.

“No. I need to go suck up to my brother that I let the hunter in me, the same old stupid need to clean up everyone else’s mess convince me it was a good idea to not let both you and Lucifer burn by Amara!” he said without looking back. “I knew Lucifer scared the crap outta him. I knew Lucifer being close would bring back stuff Sam had been burying since it happened. I knew in my heart that all that crap he’s been spouting about being fine and all aces when I could see him shaking were lies that he needed to believe to be able to handle having him here…something that would not have been an issue if you hadn’t decided to act like a butt hurt baby because you screwed yourself out of your powers and tried to play hero.”

This time Dean did look back and he smirked at the bland face angel but noticed the tension around his eyes that spoke of anger rather than shame or apology. “Pissed off because no one thinks you did good? Pissed off because I couldn’t care less if you had burned with that jackass after everything you’ve caused to happen to Sam? Get used it to because after this is over and assuming we don’t all burn out with the world, I want you gone. I don’t want to see you, hear from you and if Heaven’s guards want to shove a blade in you for the crap you caused up there…Hell, I’ll do it for them. Crowley! You’re in charge!”

“Huh? Me? Why me?” Crowley was clearly shocked at this given the past he had with both hunters. “And don’t you mean you have to go suck Moose?” he chose to add mainly to get the growl he heard next. “And that’s the pissed off Squirrel I know so well,” he smirked while choosing to ignore Chuck and his mother to glare at the angel. “And just imagine how much more he’d hate you if he knew half of what I knew after that brief jaunt through your head. Along with what else I know you know and didn’t stop from happening to Moose.”

“Dean was needed in too many ways to be distracted by knowing certain minor things,” Castiel finally replied, wincing as he went to stand only to frown when he was pushed back into the chair. “This does not concern you, Crowley. You…”

“I’ve done more to help Moose and Squirrel than you have recently and at least I bloody well wouldn’t have let Lucifer out of the bloody Cage knowing what he’d do to Sam if he got the chance!” Crowley roared, furious at the blatant uncaring tone the angel was using even now. “If Sam ever tells Dean the truth about what he does remember from his time with Campbell, what he remembers about your part in that travesty? You’ll be lucky if he just stabs you and doesn’t burn you slowly in the Holy Oil we both know he keeps handy…especially once he figures out just what Lucifer’s death has caused to happen.”

Dean grabbed a few things from the kitchen, his room and what he thought might be safe from Sam’s room until he could have it fumigated or just moved Sam into his room like he’d been considering for a while now before heading for the dungeon where he could still hear the shouts of fear, of pain, of memories that he wished he could take back from his brother.

Every fiber of Dean wanted to go into the room now, to wake Sam up and force the moment he knew was coming but as someone who knew Sam from the moment he’d been born, as the man who had raised and loved him all their lives, Dean also knew he had to wait and so sat with his back to the dungeon door and waited.

As he listened to the words said in sleep, Dean could see Sam twisting and trying to fight the memories that were still so real for him and a huge part of him wished it had been him who had sent Lucifer to wherever asshole Archangels went after being smited by God’s ticked off sister.

“Get out.”

The growl was made at the first sense that he wasn’t alone. Dean’s hand moved automatically to the angel blade he had near him while slowly lifting his eyes up to glare at Castiel who stood just outside of the main dungeon door.

“Dean, I…understand that you might be upset with my choice to allow Lucifer to use this vessel but…” he stopped when the blade was touched. “I thought it was a way to help defeat Amara since Lucifer said he could defeat her and Sam refused to…”

“Finish that sentence and I will blast your goddamn useless ass out of here so fast that Crowley’s head will spin!” Dean pushed to his feet, eyes moving to the anti-angel sigil he’d already drawn beside the door to the dungeon. “Lucifer said? Lucifer knew he was going to still be stuck in that Cage! Lucifer knew he wasn’t getting close to Sam or the freedom he wanted and he saw the perfect patsy in you! He knew, just like Metatron knew, give you a convenient lie, something to make you think that you might be able to do something important, feed that ego that is so much like every other goddamn dickhead that I have ever met and you’d sell yourself like a cheap whore! And that’s what you did, Castiel.

“You sold out to the very goddamn Devil that cost me my brother for a year! You sold out to the bastard that tortured and raped my brother for 120 years and did nothing to stop it! You gave Lucifer access to not only the world but Sam! Then I find out that you knew about these marks on him and have done nothing to either null ‘em or remove them and you think I’m…upset?” Dean’s jaw clenched and the only thing that kept him from moving was the way Sam’s voice was changing inside the other room and knew it was coming time for him to intercede.

“I am more than upset. I am pissed off and as I told you once, touch my brother and I will end you. You think because you pulled me out of Hell that I owe you something? You think because he ‘saved’ Sam from the Cage that I should be grateful? You think any of the crap you’ve done earns you my respect? Well, let me tell you what you deserve from me, Castiel,” Dean pulled another angel killing blade from where he’d had it hidden in the bag he’d brought down with him and knew the moment the Angel realized the difference.

“Feel it? I never realized there was a difference in these babies until Gabriel left this one along with his last porn type video for me and Sam back before that whole Apocalypse mess went down. I never realized that the blades an Archangel carried was a lot heavier in power than what normal dicks like you and Zach carried,” he smiled the same slow, dangerous smile that was a result of 40 years in Hell and too long in Purgatory. “Let me tell you what you deserve from me after every goddamn thing you have either done or not done in some cases.

“Even if I chose to ignore the obvious two things that really pissed me off, when you finally decided to pull Sam out of the Cage but also chose to leave his soul someplace else to help in your little War in Heaven or how you knocked the wall Death put up to protect him from those memories to keep me and Bobby from stopping your from opening Purgatory…even if I chose to ignore those two huge issues there’s still so much crap I’m done pretending never happened,” the hunter slowly stepped away from the door, blade held easily in his grasp.

“Let’s start with…you didn’t pull me out. You were part of the garrison attack that chose to come in…after I’d already broken the first seal. Gabriel said that the angels were told to hold off until it happened because they needed me broke and that seal opened,” Dean knew he should push this off, wait until a better time but the more he heard his little brother scream and beg and slowly began to understand that not all of Sam’s nightmares were of Hell the rage was too raw to keep back everything he had been for the ‘greater good’. “You didn’t ‘raise me out of perdition’. You were a foot soldier, someone else had that honor but you got the glory.

“Heaven knew what Sam was doing. Heaven knew what Ruby was doing to Sam. Heaven, according to Gabriel and Anna, could’ve stepped in but then that would’ve blown the whole vessel for Lucifer plan and we didn’t want that. You knew why Sam was lied to by her. You knew that Zach fucked with my phone message for him. You knew all the plans for us and you let my brother out of the damn Panic Room that night!” he shouted furiously, seeing Castiel step back but also saw his hand move; looking confused when what little power he’d gained back didn’t work. “Amara broke a lot of wards when she crashed this place but I put up some that I don’t you’ll like cause what juice you got? It won’t work here and it sure as hell won’t work on me.”

Dean extended his arm to show the thin line of sigils on his arm and nodded at the sharp look he got. “You think all Alastair taught me in Hell was to torture and maim? You think between him, Purgatory, and Crowley that I didn’t learn tricks to make damn sure I’d never be anyone’s bitch again? Give me a chance, lie to me one more time, try to excuse what you’ve done or come close to _my_ boy in there and I will show you exactly what I learned in Hell,” he stepped as far as the door with the angel blade now raised. “Get away from my brother. Stay the hell away from us unless Chuck decides you can be a use because I’m done buying your lies.”

“Dean, I can…I can help Sam,” Castiel said, quickly going on before the blade was raised and used. “Yes, I realize I made some questionable decisions between your release from the Pit and…my choice to allow Lucifer to use this vessel but…if you’ll release the wards so I can touch Sam then I can…Dean!”

The hunter moved with a speed and agility that took the angel off guard and Castiel found himself being slammed against a wall outside the main door to the dungeon with the point of the blade against his throat and a very furious Dean Winchester glaring at him.

“Do you not have any brains or common sense, even for an angel, left in that head or maybe you do think I’m that gullible that I’ll let you close to Sam now?” Dean wasn’t sure but he was certain of one thing as pressed the tip just hard enough that it broke skin and he saw the faint shimmer of what he knew was weak grace. “Knowing, suspecting what I do now? I wouldn’t you near him. But the main reason you will never be allowed close to or near my baby brother unless I’m in the same damn room? You represent Lucifer to him now and the second he tells me that he or you did anything to him in any way this time? You had better pray Chuck has power because I will end you and not feel one damn thing about it.”

A sudden scream of Dean’s name had the hunter losing interest in Castiel’s stuttering excuses and offers of help to turn back to the dungeon, pausing in the door to look back just as Chuck and a muttering Crowley appeared in the hall.

“In seven years, all you have done is hurt and try to cast doubt on him or us. The only exception was one time and I think the time you ‘fixed’ his mind after you broke it in the first place, was only because you knew and those jackasses in Heaven knew that if Sam went down, I was done and all of you could rot,” he threw a hard glance over his shoulder. “You could’ve helped him any number of times, Castiel. You didn’t. Now you think I’ll let you? Now that I know and you know I know, you want to ‘help’ him? No, thanks. I’ll take my chances on Chuck, Crowley, or a few other little…skills I picked up in Hell to help Sammy. You will never touch him. Now get the hell away from us!”

This time the door to the dungeon slammed and the lock was heard being thrown, effectively making whatever happened now just between the brothers.

Castiel sighed as he touched his throat. “He’s angry with me,” he said as if surprised, blinking when this time it was Chuck’s hand slapping him upside the head while the King of Hell was deciding on the best way to hurt him for screwing with the Dynamic Duo of Denim Clad Nightmares.

“Son, I think in one of those times I put you back together and for some reason that escapes me now I can’t see why I thought that would be a good idea, but I think I left a screw or two loose,” Chuck remarked with a dark, unhappy look crossing his normally happy face. “I think I need to fix you…or let Dean kill you. Let’s go see about that and maybe have a little chat about a few of your choices.”

Crowley stared at the closed door for a long time before placing a hand against it and feeling the power surge back at him, instantly recognizing it for what it was and realizing how bloody lucky he had been while the Mark of Cain controlled Dean that time that he hadn’t tried to use of those bloody spells against him or else Hell would’ve had a hunter for its King.

“Good luck, Squirrel,” he murmured as he heard the broken voice scream for his brother to make it stop. “You’re going to need it.”

**TBC**


	2. Coping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mention of past abuse, mention of abuse so this one might contain the most triggers so be aware of this.

**The Longest Night**

**Coping**

“No! Don’t touch me! Get…get away from…stop…leave…NOOOO! _Dean_!”

Dean Winchester was still furious when he slammed and locked the door to the dungeon. He leaned against it while trying to calm down before heading for the other door when he heard Sam’s ragged voice break at a scream of his name and knew the time he’d been waiting for had finally arrived.

It was never easy for Dean to let Sam suffer in any way, especially the nightmares brought on from things he had prayed his brother would never have to face or deal with. He’d learned after that mess with those goddamn rednecks years earlier what not to do when trying to help Sam cope with memories, fears, injuries or trauma. In the last few years ever since Heaven and Hell had done their best to drive a wedge between them, it was slightly harder for Dean to get Sam to open up willingly to him for fear of being mocked or ignored.

Lately since they’d repaired some of that damage and Dean had been working hard to convince his brother that he was still stone cold number one and the most important person in his life, Sam had been a little more willing to open up, to talk to him…except about certain subjects and now Dean thought he might know why that was.

Dean’s time in Hell, a small drop in the bucket compared to the time Sam had spent locked in a damn cage with two raving nuts, left him with a lot of scars and marks that very few people could see. He could see marks and only one time had Sam but it had never dawned on Dean that his brother had been left with much more than internal scars and memories of that time.

Pushing away from the door, he’d just been reaching for the bag on the floor that he’d brought down earlier when suddenly he heard something that had him jerking open the heavier door in a hurry. It wasn’t unusual to hear Sam shouting during times like this but it was very rare and very bad to actually hear him shouting for Dean to make the pain stop.

“Dean! De’n! Make…God…make it stop! Make him stop! Please…make it…”

“Sammy.”

Sam Winchester thought he heard his older brother’s voice but right then he couldn’t be sure given all the other voices, sounds he was hearing along with the pain shooting thru his body and his veins.

The nightmares had returned shortly after his encounter with Lucifer in the Cage in Hell. Sam knew his idea had been a bad one and figured out that going in without his brother had been really bad when whatever in Rowena’s spell had gone wrong and he’d found himself trapped inside with the source of his nightmares once more.

That time Sam had been able to fight back against the pain, the brutal and sick memories of not only the physical and mental abuse he’d suffered but also the crueler, the more sadistic sexual games Lucifer had played. He’d been able to resist the taunting and callous words said to make him doubt himself and give in. Sam had been able to do both because he knew without a doubt in his mind that his brother would come for him and he hadn’t been disappointed.

Sam had thought when that mess had been over that it was over and Lucifer would once again just be a thing in his mind when he got too tired, too hurt, or something brought the memories back or worse…someone or something with enough power managed to make his biggest secret sear to life.

It had been shortly after finding himself free of the Cage, free from the pain…free from a soul he’d learn much later, that Sam first realized he hadn’t just returned from the Cage without his emotions or the ability to tell right from wrong. He’d also realized he’d returned from the goddamn Cage still wearing sigils and spell marks left by Lucifer.

Less than six weeks after his confusing return, after being dropped with his mother’s family that were strangers to him, Sam had learned painfully that his invisible chains were also still live and could be used against him.

He’d chosen to not reveal this news to his brother either once they returned to hunting together or even after his broken mind had been healed not because he’d feared Dean’s reaction but because he had feared someone else.

Sam knew his brother would support him, wouldn’t judge him for what had happened to him or what little he’d finally revealed over the years because Sam had never judged Dean for the events or injuries his brother had endured while on the rack or after.

The fights after Purgatory had been both of their faults. Sam understood to this day that Dean still had memories from that time he hadn’t shared but knew not to push those because he still had memories of those months he hadn’t shared fully.

He’d been bitter and jealous over the vampire Benny while Dean had been hurt and jealous that he thought Sam hadn’t looked for him and had instead settled down with a woman to live ‘normally’. It had only been after that lie had come crashing down by an encounter that forced Sam to reveal the truth about just why he’d stopped looking for his brother that they’d slowly started to heal…to trust…to love again.

For the most part, the invisible sigils didn’t bother him. The scars only did when he and Dean showered together and Sam had to remind himself when his brother’s mouth or fingers touched scars and marks he couldn’t see but Sam could that he couldn’t flinch or cringe without having to explain.

While even the presence of a high powered demon or higher ranking angel could remind Sam the sigils were still active, it usually took a deliberate effort by one who knew the right spells or had the power to ignite the different sigils to cause him either a varying degree of pain or the binding sigils that could leave him paralyzed and helpless to whatever was then done to his body.

It was the knowledge that those ones could still be used against him that terrified Sam the most but he’d still been determined to not let his brother know about them or the possible causes of them ever being activated.

Learning that not only was Lucifer free of the Cage but that Castiel had let him in as a vessel had been the start of some very bad nights and days for Sam Winchester.

The nightmares were mostly kept at bay on nights he and Dean made love or just fooled around because on those nights they slept together. The feel of his brother’s hand on him, the feel of his arm holding him or the sound of Dean’s heart under his ear helped Sam to remember that he was safe and out of the Cage.

On times when things were hectic or they were on a case and they were usually too tired to do anything but fall into bed seemed to be the nights when Sam would wake up shaking, sweating and very close to breaking his own oath to never tell Dean everything.

When the flashes of memories started hitting in the daytime though was when Sam realized what was happening and hated it because he knew his brother owed the angel in question for getting him out of Hell as well as for healing his fractured mind.

Then when it became plain from Crowley’s attempt to get Castiel to expel Lucifer that time and the angel had basically refused, the hunter in Sam knew he’d either have to tell Dean the truth about the sigils or what else he recalled from his time shortly after the Cage; neither would make his brother happy.

The second it hit him that to possibly defeat the Darkness that Chuck might need to help of his rebellious son and that the only way to accomplish a rescue was if Sam was the one to do it while his brother distracted Amara, Sam had felt sick.

He wanted nothing to do with Lucifer or Castiel. In fact, he could care nothing if sending Lucifer back to the cage cost the angel his vessel and life given Sam’s issues with things done over the years by Castiel’s ‘well-meaning’ actions.

The hunter inside Sam understood the bigger picture. The man who had spent 120 Hell-time years being tortured physically, emotionally, and sexually and who still carried the former Archangel’s sign on his shoulder understood a much larger issue and one that he wasn’t sure how to handle or express.

Sam had always had trouble burying his emotions. It had been one of the issues he and their ex-Marine father had always had besides Sam wanting a normal life. Unlike Dean, Sam had never been one to bury or hide his stronger emotions…or he hadn’t until too many lies, issues, and wedges being shoved between them made Sam start to doubt.

There had never been a time, even while soulless, that Dean hadn’t tried to be there for him and Sam knew if he told Dean everything now that he would be again; that he would understand as well as probably lose his temper as well. The old fears of before, of shame, of doubts, of fearing that his brother could be hurt like he’d been told kept him quiet.

He’d bit his lip and agreed to rescue the one thing in all of his life that Sam despised as well as feared with every fiber of his being not because he wanted to or because he felt they had to. He would do it because he would not let the goddamn world that he and Dean had sacrificed for, bled for, and even died for burn just because he couldn’t bury his fears.

So much of Sam had wanted to leave Lucifer hanging where he was and find a new way, a new power, to help defeat Amara but in the end Sam had bit his tongue, swallowed the bile that had threatened to come up at merely touching Lucifer much less having him inside the Impala, in Sam’s spot, and silently prayed to…he wasn’t sure who he was praying to now since God was in their bunker…that he didn’t throw up in front of the new Prophet.

Amara’s attack, the sudden teleport back to the bunker and learning what Amara wanted from his brother gave Sam an easy excuse for why he spent over 45 minutes throwing up. He wasn’t ready to tell Dean the truth. He hadn’t been ready to admit everything he’d hidden since having his fractured mind restored and all his memories restored.

The decision to sleep in the dungeon had come right away. Even after Chuck had reassured Sam that he didn’t have to fear Lucifer anymore, that he was safe so long as Chuck was there, it hadn’t actually meant much to the hunter because he understood there was more ways than just with his powers that Lucifer could hurt him.

Despite Chuck’s reassurances that Lucifer couldn’t hurt him in any way, it only took an hour after his arrival at the bunker for Sam to learn that he’d already known and that was that Lucifer was very much still a threat to him and to his brother.

Not willing to get Dean involved like Sam knew he should’ve, he’d quickly gone with Plan B and that was to move to the dungeon and ward it against God, angels, Archangels and anything else he thought he might have to.

Sam had gone thru many books to learn the wards and spells needed to shield the room from anything or anyone that could possibly try to come in as well as spells or powers used without a physical body. He hadn’t slept well but at least he knew he could close his damn eyes without fear of waking up paralyzed and mute while that damn bastard promised what would happen as soon as ‘Daddy and Dean weren’t looking’.

Sam knew his brother knew where he was sleeping. He knew Dean probably was biting his tongue to keep from asking him more than he already was but was so far holding back.

Sam also knew the moment things went to the point where he couldn’t hide the pain he was in from the burning on his back or explain when he had to throw up because he was feeling memories brought on by not only Lucifer’s physical presence but by what he could do even without his powers that all bets would be off and the world would burn.

The moment Dean learned the truth, defeating the Darkness would no longer be a priority for his brother. Killing Lucifer and his current vessel would be so Sam buckled down harder and hid everything as best as he could. Of course, that was also why he’d agreed to carry the Mark of Cain without discussing it with his brother.

Chuck’s explanation of why Amara shouldn’t die made sense in a disgusting way to the younger Winchester. He knew the whole speech about Dark and Light, Yin and Yang, and everything else about order in the universe. So learning that the world actually might need Amara alive, just locked up, made sense. It just would be over Sam’s dead body that Dean would ever carry that damn mark again.

He’d seen the damage the Mark of Cain had on his older brother. Sam had seen the dark side of that mark in a very real, very vivid way and some of the doorframes in the bunker still showed the results of that nightmare.

Accepting to wear the mark if Chuck could lock her down again hadn’t been an easy decision; it was also one that Sam figured eventually would land him and Dean into a huge fight, but he’d known he might stand a better chance of withstanding the pull of it and if not…then he hoped it might help if he had to confront Lucifer.

The fear of the mark when it began to burn onto his arm scared him because Sam wasn’t stupid. He knew the risks of failing as well as losing Dean were huge. He’d told Dean to lock him somewhere where he couldn’t hurt anyone but the moment Sam went to his knees, the feel of a strong arm wrapping around his shoulders was felt.

“‘ _I have you, little brother_ ,’” Dean’s voice, low and deep that was only for Sam to hear, whispered against his ear as his brother dropped down beside him. “‘ _No matter what else happens; win or lose, fail or succeed, I have you and I am not letting you go_.’”

The pain was there but feeling Dean there managed to once again give Sam the strength he knew he would need. Then it all went to hell when Amara fought back.

Sam had a brief second to wonder if in addition to killing Lucifer, almost killing Chuck (Sam still wasn’t sure if God could die or what would happen if he did) if he would be next.

He suspected Amara wouldn’t or possibly couldn’t kill Dean because of whatever bond they had so he was reassured his brother would be safe. Since Sam had been the one the mark had gone to he also figured she would see him as an even bigger threat than she might have had before and he’d be dead.

The mark was gone from his arm but the sudden pain that was hitting him now had Sam fighting the need to either curl into a ball or into Dean’s arms like he had as a kid or a few times since when things had gotten too bad or the emotions crashed in on him.

The shock of what had just happened and that they were still alive had luckily distracted Dean from noticing how badly Sam was still shaking or how rigid he’d stayed on the actual drive back to the bunker.

Sam had stayed conscious but only barely. He’d also noticed that despite having a barely conscious angel vessel, Chuck and a unhappy Rowena in the backseat of the Impala that Dean’s arm had still reached over to bring him against his side.

It was a move that had always offered security for Sam and it did this time as well…if it also didn’t cause him burning agony and had him fighting the instinct to pull back from the other feelings he was now getting hit with.

Amara killing Lucifer, burning him out of the vessel he’d been using, should’ve also have meant any link he had to the binding sigils and spell marks hidden on Sam’s body should’ve been gone as well. Sam had thought that would be what would happen if anything had ever killed Lucifer.

He expected maybe one searing burst but not this constant steady agony as every mark, every sigil, every scar flared to full intensity. The hunter also hadn’t been expecting every damn feeling and emotion to hit at the same time.

By the time they got back to the bunker, he’d managed to help Dean get a woozy Chuck inside while a barely with it Castiel was able to walk himself since Dean had refused to even acknowledge their former ally.

Not wanting to leave his brother to deal with everything they now had to, it finally got to be too much when a passing touch from Castiel nearly had Sam on his knees fighting not to scream. He’d seen Rowena stare between them but by then all Sam wanted was to be alone so Dean’s order to go take a shower was gladly and eagerly accepted in the hopes of washing away all the feelings suddenly swamping him.

It wasn’t until he undressed to step under the water that Sam saw what he’d been hoping he wouldn’t. While the marks and scars were invisible to everyone but him, there were a few he knew were there but even he couldn’t see unless they were active.

Sam felt his stomach knotting even as he was trying not to scream when he saw the burning red mark around his throat as well as those on his wrists and one on his thigh that only lit when Lucifer wanted him to remember the lessons taught in that Cage; when he was to be reminded of the horrors and humiliation he’d endured.

The final straw for the already upset hunter was when he glanced in the mirror to see a different mark on his back was also active and that was when Sam forgot the shower and just threw up. That mark would mean telling his brother something he’d managed to hide for almost five years and hope Dean believed him.

Forgetting the shower, Sam knew he couldn’t go back to the main room yet. He also couldn’t enter his room until he nuked it after having Lucifer take it over so he’d gone to the dungeon with the hope of sleeping even a little.

The little nagging fear in the back of his head that told Sam not to sleep, to not risk the full memories or feelings coming back went unheard as his body caved to the pain and he passed out, blood dripping from his palm where he’d attempted to draw one last warding sigil with only a slim hope of keeping himself and his brother safe from a harm that Dean wouldn’t suspect.

Burning agony, sick nausea rolling in his stomach, shameful memories as well as too many voices all were combining to make Sam’s struggle to consciousness again hard.

The flashes of flame, of the wires and chains used in the Cage, the sneering voice, as well as the actual touches had Sam thrashing and fighting but he couldn’t fully wake up. He heard other voices, saw other memories that he’d hidden from for years; that he’d hidden from Dean.

Sam’s throat burned as if that sigil still wanted to mute him, almost as if fearing what he could speak if he could. Fingers clenching into fists against the touches he could feel, could recall, the hunter finally heard himself scream out for Dean and gave up the need to carry this weight alone.

“Dean! De’n! Make…God…make it stop! Make him stop! Please…make it…”

“Sammy.”

The low deep husky voice that spoke his name instantly had Sam’s cloudy eyes snapping towards it only to get more panicked when he had trouble seeing anything but the memories currently assaulting his mind. “…De?”

Dean Winchester was used to a dropped syllable or letter in his name when his brother was hurt, sick or drunk. That was common so while it warned him what to possibly expect when he stepped into the dungeon, making sure to pull the door closed after him, when he heard Sam actually shorten his name the hunter’s panic kicked up to full.

Dropping the bag inside the door, Dean was on his knees next to where he’d noticed Sam had managed to get himself curled into a corner of the room.

Reaching for his brother, it only took one look at Sam’s face in addition to the new bloody sigils he noticed had been drawn in addition to those he could now see had been added to the room to tell Dean that he might have suspected how bad the recent weeks, especially the last few days, had been on his brother but he’d had no clue to how bad it had been…until now.

“Hey. Hey, Sammy? I’m here. I’m right here, baby brother,” Dean was quick to speak to let, hopefully, Sam hear his voice and start to calm him down once he noticed the glassiness to Sam’s hazel eyes. “Sam? Can you hear me?” he asked while giving a quick look around to see the blankets and pillows that had been laid out but tossed in Sam’s restless struggles but what concerned the hunter besides the glassy eyes was the blood he could see dripping from his brother’s hands. “Sam! Can you…”

Ice cold fingers grabbing for his wrist cut Dean off but reassured him that Sam could at least hear him enough to know that he was with him. “Okay. I need you to try to look at me, baby boy. I need you to tell me what’s going on or who I can kill since Amara beat me to ending the one jackass. Tell me where it’s hurting and…Sammy? I need to those marks.”

Sam could hear and feel Dean. The relief at both was staggering to him but he was having difficulty with seeing and that was starting to really freak him out. The other request was the one Sam knew he couldn’t do; not because he didn’t want to but because he couldn’t.

“C…can’t see,” he hissed, teeth clenched against the searing pain burning up his back as well as in his stomach that had him curling in on himself more because he knew from experience if he straightened up it would be all that much worse. “Hurts, De’n. Make…make it stop. Please, just make it…”

Hating to ever hear Sam sound that scared or be in that much pain, Dean nodded; responses now running on pure big brother instinct when he went to move his hand to the small of Sam’s back only to curse vehemently the second he touched Sam and his brother screamed.

“ _Sonuvabitch_!” Dean, for just a moment, felt as helpless as he had one time when Sam was 16 and injured. Then, like now, it only took a soft sob from Sam, the sight of tears on a face too pale for the older brother’s liking, for his wild, confused and helpless thoughts to be replaced by the calmer, more professional but pissed off hunter.

The burning need to hurt anyone and everyone who had ever hurt Sam came to him but Dean quickly pushed those thoughts aside to focus on the more important thing to him: taking care of his brother in whatever way he could.

“Okay, Sammy, I need you to trust me and remember that promise I made you a lifetime ago when I said so long as I was with you that you’d be safe,” he began while trying to pull his phone out of his pocket, send a text and get Sam to his feet all while thinking in 20 over directions to what he’d need to have or do to achieve his goals. “Can you still do that, little brother? Will you trust me to take care of you?”

“Yeah,” Sam thought that question was stupid since of course he’d trust Dean. Even when they were fighting the worst, he still trusted his brother. This time was no different even if he wasn’t sure how Dean could help him when Sam couldn’t even get the words out to explain what was wrong.

Feeling himself pulled to his feet nearly had him fighting back in response to the pain increasing and a flash of memory that had him jerking his head away from the hand cupping his jaw. “Don’…he…” Sam glanced over but bit back a cry of frustration at only seeing blurry shadows. “De’n, can’t see you. Why?”

Dean had a suspicion but wouldn’t know for sure until he got his brother out of the dungeon. “I think one of the marks or sigils you got in the Cage, which you really needed to tell me you had, must still be active even after Lucifer got fried. If they…what? What’s with the head shaking?” he asked and cursed the damn wards in the dungeon for keeping him from doing what he wanted to right there. “Sam, can you talk to me or is something keeping you from telling me what’s hurting or why?”

“…Think…little,” Sam gritted, fingers curling into the belt loop of his brother’s jeans once he felt one under his searching fingers; needing the connection to keep from screaming as it felt like flames were licking over his bare skin. “He…Lucifer…he…”

“Chuck said he couldn’t hurt you. Chuck buried his access to his damn powers so he couldn’t…oh, son of a goddamn fucking bitch!” Dean had managed to get the heavy dungeon door open without losing his grip on his shaking and barely with it brother when suddenly it all clicked with him and he swore to hurt a lot of people the moment he wasn’t busy stopping Sam’s pain. “The sigils, their spell marks so he wouldn’t have to use his damn powers to touch you. He just had to say a goddamn spell! _Crowley_!”

Sam was briefly curious to how Dean even learned about the marks from the Cage but supposed either Crowley or Chuck could’ve mentioned them since he knew both could tell he had them if not outright see them. It had always made Sam curious why his brother, from his time in Hell, couldn’t see them, but he’d never had the guts to ask because then he’d have to explain why he wanted to know. Now he did or tried to.

“You…you can’t see…?” he gasped as it felt like something punched him in the chest the moment he realized he was outside the protection of the dungeon. “No! De! Can’t go…wards will…” he groaned as pain and mocking laughter both seemed to hit him. “They…hurt enough in there but out here…he’ll…he can…”

“Lucifer’s gone to wherever Archangels go when their pissed off Aunt fries their asses, Sammy,” Dean had been reassured of that by a chagrined Chuck earlier so now he just had to focus on getting the marks visible so they could be shut down and maybe even removed only to learn that things might not be as simple as he had hoped they would be when Sam began shaking even harder the further from the dungeon they went and he had to listen closely to what was being whispered when it suddenly looked to him like his brother was having difficulty breathing. “Sammy?”

Fingers tightening on Dean’s wrist again, Sam hated this. He hated what he was feeling, remembering but he also hated that he had to drop this on his brother right in the middle of another end of the world mess. “Not…not all Lucifer’s…marks,” he gasped, thinking he heard a low growl but then heard other sounds that had him tensing when he suddenly could tell even without his vision where he was. “Your…room?”

“Yeah, my room. It’s better for you right now,” Dean decided to leave out why that was as he met a grim faced Crowley’s eyes while gently lowering Sam to the bed, allowing his brother to keep the grip he had on his wrist as he sat beside him when Sam instantly struggled to sit up, unable to let his back touch the bed. “You trust me right, Sammy?” he asked again, fingers gently carding back thru sweat soaked dark hair. “You know that I love you and that anything I do now is only to make this pain go away, right?”

Sam nodded, letting his head drop to the strong shoulder that he knew would be there and only slightly aware that his breathing was coming easier as he felt a familiar touch ghost over his throat. “Hmm,” he murmured but tensed when a burning shot up his thigh and had him clawing for his leg until Dean caught his hand in his. “Hurts.”

“I know it does, little brother. I know it hurts and probably before I can make it stop hurting, you will be in a lot more pain than I wish you had to be but…” Dean paused to catch Sam’s chin in his hand, lifting it so that even though Sam couldn’t see him yet he could see his brother. “…but what I do, what you might hear or feel in the next few minutes will only be because I don’t know any other way to stop this crap from hurting you without risking more harm by letting someone else touching you,” he saw Sam’s brow furrow in confusion and silently hoped his brother was in enough pain, in shock enough to not remember anything. “Love you.”

Actually hearing Dean say the words he rarely did but always still showed in other ways startled Sam but then he was distracted from the pain at the light touch of soft lips touching his in a slow, sweet kiss and Sam felt his fingers curl in his brother’s flannel. “W-what…” he started to ask when a sudden feeling in the back of his head warned him of trouble before he heard a voice, a growl from his brother, a startled grunt and a Scottish witch letting loose a string of profanities at the surprised Angel when some ward kept him from entering the bedroom.

“Shh, just relax, Sammy. I’ve got you,” Dean assured his brother when he felt him tense at Castiel’s voice asking if he could be of assistance only to find the door blocked. “The room’s warded. Only those I want in here with my brother will be allowed in,” he spoke in his harder hunter tone without looking over his shoulder, knowing the look he’d be getting even without Crowley’s smirk.

“But yet Crowley and Rowena clearly passed the warding,” Castiel frowned as he moved a hand to test the strength of the warding spell only to frown more when he was shoved back but this time felt the power that caused it. “Dean…”

“Yeah, imagine that when the King of Hell and a witch are more welcome near my brother than a so-called Angel of the Lord,” Dean glanced back now to meet the stony gaze, fingers smoothing over Sam’s arm again when he felt him jerk. “Get out of the hall, get away from the door and don’t come close to us,” he growled, adding as an afterthought when he heard the soft words tumbling from Sam’s lips as his brother seemed to be slipping more into shock. “Oh and Castiel? Just a heads up. If I find one mark on Sam that I know you caused bringing him outta the Cage or while you were helping the Campbell’s control him? You’d better hope Chuck has some power back.”

The unspoken words were more promise than threat since by that point the angel had learned that Dean Winchester never bluffed when it came to his brother. Castiel just wasn’t used to that tone being aimed at him in a number of years.

“You would rather have a demon or a witch use their power on Sam to possibly bring Lucifer’s sigils to the surface and try to banish them?” he gazed at Crowley before looking to the hunter who had moved toward the door. “Dean, I know you might be upset with my choices but…”

“I am pissed off that because you got your ego in a knot because you felt useless that you brought that bastard out of the Cage,” Dean corrected tightly, fingers clenching on his door while glaring at their former ally. “I am pissed knowing you knew about these sigils and did nothing. I’m also pissed about Sam having to face nightmares he never wanted to but what will get you fried out of existence…again? The moment I learn why he’s afraid of you is when I do what I promised you I’d do once. Bye.”

The door slammed and the hunter turned to see Crowley and Rowena watching him while Sam had curled on his side with Dean’s pillow clenched to his chest. “Okay, so I’ve pissed him off again. Let’s see how much of my time in Hell that wasn’t torturing I remember,” he muttered with a blown out breath. “The ward to keep Castiel out will hold unless he pushes. I can’t have him near Sam until I see what marks he’s hiding. Keep him out.”

“I think Mother can do that fairly easily,” he offered Rowena his usual smirking smile while watching as Dean slowly whispered to Sam before removing his jeans. “Squirrel, let’s keep this clean or else you are explaining to my Mother just what else you and Moose get up in your downtime,” he chose to put in casually but knew it had the desired effect to settle the fuming hunter’s temper back down. “Care to share with the class what Alastair taught you?”

“No, but get any closer to Sam right now and you can find out,” Dean shot back coldly, green eyes hard when he shifted them up from Sam to Crowley; lips curving into a hard smile. “Did you have any real idea what you might’ve been setting loose by putting that Mark on me, Crowley? Have you read any of those papers or tomes left in Hell that I know Alastair left? Clearly you didn’t. Now back off.”

Sighing but backing a few steps back to pull a chair over to where Rowena was dumping a few things she’d brought down with her into a bowl. “Don’t blow up the place,” he said lowly but seeing the spell she was casting, recognizing it as nothing harmful to the Winchesters. “Dean, I can do this for you or Mother can since I can tell her the spell to…bloody hell!”

Dean had put his time as the premier student of Hell’s Master Torturer in the back of his mind since he’d been freed. Only a few times since, one Sam knew about, a few he didn’t, did that side come back to the surface but never had he gone this far back down that rabbit hole.

His time in Hell was one he still didn’t talk freely about. It took a lot of whiskey or a blood gushing wound to get him to talk about that time, especially to his brother. He wasn’t proud of what he’d done or what was done to him so admitting he’d also been taught a few dark spells was not something he would ever speak of to a brother who still blamed himself for failing to rescue Dean sooner.

Hating to do this with others in the room but needing to be certain if anything went wrong that Crowley was close to handle it since he knew Chuck was still too weak to do anything but possibly make things worse, Dean removed what he kept in the pocket of his jeans to press it into Sam’s hand; smiling when shaking fingers latched onto the small amulet like he’d always done when hurt and Dean gave him the amulet to hold.

“Sammy? I know you’re pretty out of it now. I know you’re hurting and scared about whatever you’re seeing or feeling but if you can still hear me, if you know it’s me with you right now, I need you to squeeze my hand and keep your eyes closed until I say to open them,” he kept his voice low, soothing but just slightly away from the tone that only his brother ever got to hear from him. “Can you do that for me?”

Sam was fighting the pain that was now all over but seemed to be receding since getting to Dean’s room. He could still hear and feel things he wished he couldn’t and also knew deep down that whatever was going to happen soon would probably incite a fight he wasn’t ready for but he slowly made his fingers squeeze the hand he could feel holding the one not clutching Dean’s amulet.

“Remember when we were kids? That time you wanted us to cut ourselves and slap palms like you’d seen in a movie?” Dean had pulled a small box from his nightstand that he kept buried at the bottom, hearing Crowley curse under his breath and knowing the demon understood how lucky he’d been to keep his head much less his throne. “Cool it, Crowley. What’s in this box stays in this box and never will see the light of day again once I’m done with this,” he shot this over his shoulder, ignoring the others in the room as soon his focus was narrowed on his shaking brother. “Remember how you sulked for a week when I wouldn’t because I told you we were already brothers so didn’t need to be ‘blood brothers’?”

“Yah,” Sam mumbled, trying to twist more to where he could feel Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed but the pain wasn’t too bad right then so he hated to risk it. “Why?”

Dean smiled at the question because it told him that Sam was still with him and not pulled into his nightmares of pain. Looking at the small switchblade with etchings on the blade, he took a slow shaky breath to make himself concentrate on remembering the exact spell he needed for this in his head.

“Because I…need to do that with you now. I need you to let me cut your palm after I’ve cut mine and share that blood,” he was hoping this didn’t get a question as he wasn’t ready to fully explain what he was doing to Sam if he could keep from it. “Will you let me do that, Sammy?”

Sam was tired and also knew he couldn’t see right now so he didn’t bother to open his eyes even though he wouldn’t yet since Dean hadn’t told him too. He did offer up his best, if weak, bitch face at the question. “De’n, we’ve…shared spit and…swallowed each other how…hey, is Crowley choking?” he thought he heard the broken accent coughing after swearing about bloody images he’ll never unhear while Rowena merely told her son to grow up and stop being an ass.

“Okay, we’ll just take that as your agreement to this plan,” Dean would not turn to look because he figured if he did he’d probably actually blush given what else Rowena had just said that he would never reply to. “Sam? No matter what you see, what memories that hit you, don’t fight them. Just let them come and I promise that I will be with you,” he murmured lowly while slicing small gashes along his palm, then Sam’s before pressing their palms together; fingers meshing like they had so often before. “Trust me, Sammy. I’ve got you.”

Crowley was still swearing in dead languages while deciding he did not really want those images of his two favorite denim clad nightmares when it suddenly dawned on him what Dean was doing. “Winchester, the spell to show the marks he has from that bloody pompous sod isn’t a blood spell so what are you…bloody hell, you are a man of many surprises today, Squirrel,” he murmured, wincing when he felt the power change and having to step back.

Dean despised, detested, and deplored those 40 years or four months in Hell. He despised Alastair not only for what was done to him or what he’d been slowly turning him into but also for the final threat that had finally after 30 years of refusals had broken Dean’s determination to fight.

Some say he broke because he’d been weak. Dean had thought that himself more than a few times over the years. In his heart though he knew it hadn’t been a lack of strength in willpower that had forced him to finally break on the rack. No, it had been a weakness of another kind and that was one weakness he’d never try to break himself of having.

He had long ago accepted that he and Sam were each other’s weak points. It had been how Heaven and Hell had torn their bond apart during the whole Apocalypse mess. He had allowed Castiel and the doubts put in his head to cause him to lose faith in his brother and that, as Dean realized later on, had been his fatal mistake. A mistake that he’d been cleaning up from since he’d made it.

Dean was willing to kill for Sam. He was willing to lie, cheat, con, and steal for Sam. He would go to hell or worse for Sam. He’d done all of that and more for his brother since the night of the fire that changed their lives. Knowing this, he supposed what he was about to do could also be added to that list.

Ignoring the grumbling going on behind him, Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly before pulling Sam up until he was able to lean against Dean’s chest. “Forgive me, Sammy,” he whispered, lips gentle when they were pressed to the center of Sam’s forehead a second before he heard his brother gasp as the words Dean spoke silently began to do what they needed to do.

The words of the spell, a spell among many that he’d been taught in the time as Alastair’s pupil, ran through the hunter’s head since he’d never speak it out loud and knew it would still work effectively like this since he’d combined it with their blood.

Crowley was right. The normal spell didn’t require blood. He just needed to speak or think the ancient spell to bring the sigils and other marks left on Sam that he couldn’t see with his eyes to the surface.

Dean, however, knew enough to know if he added their combined blood along with a few extra words that he’d not only see the invisible marks and scars that were now slowly beginning to be seen but also be able to ease the pain and emotional trauma Sam might be in from having them surface.

It was clear to all that the sigils left by Lucifer were still active, that they hadn’t diminished with his death. As Dean felt Sam tensing against him, felt his fingers gripping his hand tighter as he began to whimper as the pain once again increased, he swallowed the rage as it also became clear why that was and also why Sam was having difficulty speaking to him.

“I’m here, Sammy. Just listen to me or listen to this and nothing else you hear because those voice, those sounds are just from the memories,” Dean said while managing to pull his phone out of his pocket, scroll the playlist for the one he wanted and hit play before placing it on the nightstand closest to them so the various classic rock songs would play on a loop.

As the music started with the first opening notes of ‘Back in Black’, Dean both felt and saw Sam’s tension slowly start to ease off. Ignoring the mutter from Crowley about his horrid music selection, he carefully eased Sam over until he could lay his brother down with his head cradled on Dean’s lap; fingers carding back through long dark hair before moving to gently skim over Sam’s throat.

“No! Don’t…” Sam jerked at the touch, expecting the same searing pain as his mind battled with the memories of the Cage and knowing who he was with. “Can’t see, De’n. Need to see…you. Hear…him…them…and…”

“I know and you will but first we have to get rid of some of these deeper sigils before we can clear your eyes,” Dean was quick to reassure him while frowning as he took in the varying sigils and scars that now littered Sam’s body, realizing and hating how he’d underestimated things his little brother had been hiding from all these damn years. “Can I touch you? Can I touch them?” he asked, relieved when he saw the jerky nod.

Sam tensed subtly at the feel of calloused fingers on his throat, shivering at the low burn and recalling when the ‘collar’ had been put on and how even this most recent time Lucifer had threatened him with it. Then slowly he began to feel a change in the pain, in the tightness around his skin as he felt Dean’s fingers caressing over the exact sigil while talking lowly to him.

The burning pain was slowly replaced by a cooling feeling at the same time as the tightness that could often choke off his words lessened until with a gasp Sam almost felt the sigil and the collar melting away.

“Dean? What’re you…?” Sam started to ask but his mouth felt like a desert so he had to stop and swallow a few times when he felt a straw touch his lips but hesitated, unsure what it was.

“I grabbed Gatorade for you earlier and that’s what this time, Sam,” Dean replied after motioning to Crowley to hand him the bottle of blue flavored drink. “And I’m not doing anything but holding you, letting you feel a touch that you know won’t hurt you while Rowena and Crowley work on removing these damn marks you never should’ve been left with,” he went on softly while glaring at the demon before he could open his mouth.

About to offer up a bitching complaint about standing around like a bump on a log, Crowley shut his mouth at that comment when he realized the other reason he and his mother had been allowed in on what was so clearly a moment Dean would’ve preferred to have private.

Shaking his head to motion Rowena not to speak up, Crowley moved back to lean against the door. He felt the disturbance on the other side with a smirk and looking forward to the altercation he figured would be coming once Dean was certain Sam was safe enough to leave for a few minutes.

The time it took for Dean to remove the marks, sigils and some of the scars, cleansing after each was gone went unknown to the hunter or his shaking brother. All Dean knew was by the time Sam finally went limp in his arms after beginning to throw up as if his body was trying to expel any leftover negative energy or painful memories he felt like he’d been run over by a possessed monster truck or tossed around by a vengeful spirit or 20 and he felt like scalding his own skin off.

“I’m here, baby brother. It’s over or most of the marks are gone and the ones that couldn’t be removed fully can never be used to hurt you again,” he promised in a soft whisper after he’d gently lowered Sam back to the bed once the dry heaves had slowly subsided and it was safe for his brother to lay down, hopefully to sleep in peace for the first time in Dean wasn’t sure how long.

The last thing Dean had to do was done when he gently brushed his lips over each closed eye lid, lips curving into a tired smile when he heard the whisper soft mumble that thankfully he didn’t think reached anyone’s ears but his.

“Yeah, I’ll be here when you wake up and you’ll be able to see me, Sammy,” he murmured, kissing the corner of Sam’s mouth while running his hand down his brother’s back once Sam had flopped over to his stomach like he’d always done when too tired or sick. “And yes, I will do that.”

The sigils, marks and a good many scars had been removed. The taint from the Cage and Lucifer, Dean had seen a few scars from Michael but hadn’t felt anything close to what he had from Lucifer or things done during Sam’s time with their mother’s so-called family had also been removed as fully as either his meager skill or a sudden helping hand from Crowley could ensure.

“You know you can’t do what you just did too often, Squirrel,” Crowley spoke up once he thought Dean would hear him, straightening his jacket while glancing towards Rowena and then the door. “Even without any power from Hell, or the Mark affecting you, that kind of magic can cause you harm. Not that I care, mind you, but then I’d have to deal with an unhappy Moose and I dread those damn bloody puppy eyes of his.”

“You and me both,” Dean smirked, rubbing his palm over his jeans to be sure the cut had healed after looking at Sam’s palm earlier for the same thing. “The crap I learned in Hell, the stuff Alastair taught me or told me, it’s a have to case when I use or dredge it back up, Crowley,” he stated firmly, glancing over his shoulder. “Do I have to tell you though what I’ll do to you if this gets back to him?”

Crowley merely stared at the hunter for a long moment before finally offering a simple nod, understanding Dean’s words and knowing it best not to push the hunter given how on edge he still was.

“Going to sleep or brood or…?” he asked from the hall, suspecting the hunter’s choice even before Dean pushed past him after making sure Sam appeared to be sleeping fully.

Rowena was going off on a tangent about two headed ball less ferrets while poking a nail into a grim Castiel’s chest when Dean stalked into the map room.

“Bloody so-called angel of the Lord indeed!” she huffed, spinning on her heel to sit at the table to be out of the way when the hunter’s fist bunched in the angel’s tie to yank him up. “And is it any wonder I became a witch and a Pagan?”

“I think when I put him back together after Lucifer blew him up at Stull I didn’t tighten a screw on his morality or I left a few out when dealing with ego,” Chuck piped up from where he was basically back to laying on the floor with an arm over his head. “Once I stop feeling like a smushed bug I’ll try to tweak him or something.”

“Tweak him, burn him, I really don’t give a goddamn,” Dean growled without looking at anyone but the angel in front of him. “This will be the only time I will bring this up but you better understand the man who has been willing to give you a pass on all the crap you’ve done to Sam is not the man you will ever see again. Not now, not since I saw his shoulder, saw his neck and saw his goddamn memories that you and Samuel tried to erase.”

Castiel suspected this would come up once he’d been locked out of the room earlier. He’d known years ago that what he’d done and allowed to be done to Dean’s brother was out of bounds but to win the war in Heaven, to get what was needed, he’d felt the need outweighed the danger or harm. Just as he’d felt the need to free Lucifer to defeat the Darkness also was bigger than Sam’s fears or his past.

“Dean, you’re not seeing the bigger…ugh!” he grunted as a fist flew and his head snapped back. His powers were still too low or else what power Chuck had made him very much feel that punch.

“Finish it and I finish you,” Dean was tired from what he’d done so he knew he only had a little bit more strength before he had to sleep but before he did he wanted to make one thing clear. “I saw his thoughts, I saw and felt what he did as he remembered. You are still in that vessel in case I can figure out a way to burn your ass while fighting Amara but…if Sam has any qualms with having your face in this bunker, if I feel one ounce of concern from him or I think you’re actually stupid enough to hurt my brother again in any way or ‘for the bigger picture’…I will test out that Archangel blade and you will be out of our lives.”

Shoving Castiel back, Dean turned to eye Chuck. “Boxing her back up didn’t work. Looks like we’re going with my plan so one of you try to come up with a way to kill the Darkness that does not involve my brother getting hurt in any way,” he said while thinking of things he’d seen and heard in the last few hours that he knew he’d never forget or forgive.

“What about you getting hurt, Squirrel?” Crowley called out just as Dean was almost out of the room, sensing the hunter had stopped. “What happens to Moose if you have to be the one to get hurt during this clean-up mess?”

Dean wasn’t allowing himself to go there yet. He knew the odds were good that it would be him and that he would have to prepare Sam in some way for that but now wasn’t that time. To Crowley, he merely glanced back over his shoulder to meet the steady gaze. “If it comes down to that? I’ll cope. But if that happens, Chuck had better drink a few Red Bulls to super charge his ass because before I agree to anything else, I will know for damn certain that Sam is out and safe,” he shifted glistening eyes to where Chuck was not sitting up.

“Amara can burn this world. She can burn you before I leave him without a goddamn promise that he can be safe or that if or when anything happens to him that he can have the Heaven he has always deserved,” Dean felt the burning in his eyes and knew he had to get back to Sam now but he kept his gaze on Chuck until he saw the Creator of the Universe nod slowly. “None of this Reaper crap Billie promised. I killed Death. I was the one mainly screwing his plans up so if I buy it fighting Amara then fine, I’ll take that punishment but not my brother. None of my mistakes or the path I led him down gets laid on him now. He’s free.”

Chuck knew what that all meant and while he wasn’t sure he could do it all, he would try his best. He would also try his best to give both Winchesters Heaven when it was finally their time.

Dean left the map room without caring if there were things he should do. He considered showering but then chose to go be where he knew he needed to be.

“Sammy,” he whispered as he stepped inside his bedroom, shutting and locking the door while making certain this time no one could enter.

Sam was still asleep on his stomach, hand clutching the amulet while his other was stretched out as if reaching for Dean, which Dean suspected he was since it was something his brother had always done.

Stretching out beside Sam, Dean buried the groan on pain as his tense muscles reacted to straightening out after so long. He felt Sam shift on instinct and smiled at the feel of warm breath on his neck when Sam found that one spot he always did to sleep.

“I’m here, Sam,” he whispered after hearing a sleepy murmur, fingers brushing over Sam’s face and wishing for more time. “I’ll be here when you wake up and I’ll keep that promise, baby boy. We will make love one more time…or at least once more before we save the world and hit the road for the Grand Canyon and a vacation.”

Dean knew what Sam had asked him before falling to sleep fully and while normally he wouldn’t have with others…God…in the bunker, he’d wait to see how Sam was when he woke up and they’d go from there. His brother had just coped with a lot of crap. Now Dean would see about giving him the comfort he had always tried to give when possible.

**TBC**


	3. Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this chapter has healing and smut.

**The Longest Night**

**Comfort**

A hesitant finger slowly tracing the anti-possession tattoo before moving down a scar on his chest while warm steady breath blew on his neck woke Dean Winchester to the thought that he’d slept too long and his little brother was not only awake but bored.

Years of growing up with, sharing a bed with Sam even before they crossed those lines from brothers to lovers had taught Dean that while Sam was usually fine with just quietly lying in bed with him, he did also tend to get bored or restless at other times…like when he wasn’t sure how Dean would react to something.

“Hmm, been awake long?” Dean asked, voice deeper from sleep; opening his eyes slowly to see that Sam still had his head pillowed on his shoulder and lashes were mostly covering his eyes. “Or are you awake yet? Sammy?”

“Yeah, I think I’m mostly there,” Sam’s voice was quiet like it tended to be when cautious but since he felt relaxed under the arm that still held him close Dean had a hunch what was happening. “Are you awake yet Dean?” he asked after another second of moving his fingers down over the muscles in Dean’s stomach when a hand suddenly caught his. “Guess so.”

“I am now, little brother,” Dean’s lips curved up into a slow smile at Sam’s soft chuckle. Shifting slightly, he nudged Sam fully onto his back so he could prop himself up on an elbow and look at his brother’s face.

Sam had been tense and pale lately. Last night Dean had seen his brother’s face almost a sickly white as he’d worked through both pain and memories before finally passing out and then sleeping fully. Now as he looked at it, the hunter’s trained eye still picked up the slight tension around his brother’s wary but clear hazel eyes but the color was back in his cheeks which suited Dean for the moment.

“How do you feel?” Dean asked but was quick to catch Sam’s face when he started to move it to the side as if to avoid either his eyes or this conversation. “Uh-huh, Sammy, tell me how you feel? Better than you have or can you still feel him?”

Considering, Sam shook his head. “No. I don’t feel Lucifer but…” he paused to bit his lip, not sure how to explain when he wasn’t sure how much his brother had seen. “How much or how many did Crowley’s spell make visible?” he asked slowly, fingers of his one hand moving the amulet in his fingers while trying to avoid Dean’s eyes but that wasn’t possible.

“All of them,” Dean was sure of that since he’d made damn sure all the sigils, marks, scars or brands on Sam were made visible so he could remove those that could be removed. “You really should’ve told me about those, Sam,” he said but was careful to keep his tone gentle so Sam wouldn’t think he was angry with him. “Especially the damn sigil that collared you since we both know my feelings on that.”

“I…” Sam started but again stopped to consider his words carefully. The last thing he wanted right that moment was to start a fight or open a can of worms that they didn’t need opened right then. “I…accepted the sigils and scars from the Cage as maybe penance for what I’d done and…”

“What you did?” Dean repeated slowly, feeling the muscle on his jaw twitch as it hit him that Sam was still blaming himself for things beyond his control. “Do I have to give you the 15 hour lecture that nothing that has happened was your fault? Sam, we’ve both been jerked around, lied to, used and manipulated by both sides so one more time…nothing that has ever happened is your fault,” he curved his fingers under Sam’s chin in order to lift it back up so their eyes could meet. “You never should’ve had to deal with knowing those marks were on you or why they were caused. And if I had known about them, then that asshole never would’ve been brought in this bunker.”

“The bigger picture and all…that vein in your forehead is pounding,” Sam had started to shrug it off when he happened to notice that and tensed enough that he felt Dean’s hand touch the center of his chest like it would when needing to soothe him. “Angry?”

“With you? No,” Dean replied and meant it, forcing himself to calm down because he suddenly knew where that phrase Sam kept repeating had come from and would deal with that soon. “Furious with everyone else that has ever touched you, hurt you, used, lied, manipulated, or screwed with your head and memories? Yeah, them and him, I’m pissed off at and will be ganking sons of bitches real soon but first…” he paused to brush his thumb over Sam’s jaw, then over his bottom lip. “Answer me when I ask you, how do you feel and do you still feel him?”

Sam’s brow creased in confusion. He knew he’d said he couldn’t feel Lucifer anymore just a few leftover things from the spell that had brought the sigils out fully. Then he watched as Dean’s steady gaze went from his eyes to his neck and caught his breath as it sank in what his brother meant and what Dean must have pieced together.

“No, not like I…did,” he finally admitted slowly, adding with a sigh once he saw Dean’s eyebrow go up as if catching his exact words meant there was more to it. “I still feel something burning in the back of my mind, on my shoulder where the mark was once I was pulled out of the Cage but…I…I think that’s just because he’s in the bunker and I don’t tr…” Sam stopped, not wanting to complete the sentence. “I’m fine, Dean. I…”

“Finish it,” Dean ordered in a tone just slightly harder; the tone he used when needed to get Sam to listen to him. “Finish what you almost said, little brother. You don’t…what? And don’t lie to me and say you’re fine because I know there’s something still bugging you. Tell me.”

Sam debated on refusing but didn’t want the fight that would bring. He didn’t want anything negative between them now. “Fine,” he blew out a hard breath before making his eyes meet Dean’s. “I don’t trust Castiel. I haven’t trusted him since that mess with Alastair happened. I don’t trust him now especially and…if I said I wanted him out of here or never wanted him around me or you again assuming we don’t all die, what would you say?” he asked with a bit more hesitance. “I know we owe him for…”

“We owe him shit,” Dean cut in firmly, seeing surprise on Sam’s face but also a little more relief that he wasn’t in trouble for what he’d said. “Anything Castiel might’ve been owed was forgotten when he let you out of the Panic Room that night so you could go be used in Maryland. It was forgotten when he left you in that goddamn cage for 120 years. I stopped considering the little things we might’ve owed him when he chose to leave your soul behind or use it in his power games and when he kicked that wall down,” he slid his fingers back through Sam’s hair to offer a smile that was only for Sam when Dean also began to kiss the hard line of his brother’s jaw.

“He’s still around not because we’re friends, or allies or even because I thought he might come in handy at times. He’s still here because I wasn’t sure if I could protect you when he had his Grace,” Dean went on and as he was speaking he was also letting his mouth glide over the warm skin of Sam’s throat, over the exact spot he could still recall seeing that damn sigil.

“I’ve been a little…distracted with things since finding out he lost his Grace, stole someone else’s and got his back to a lesser degree,” he smiled against the hallow of Sam’s throat when he felt his brother’s body starting to relax again and heard a soft murmur of pleasure. “Now that you finally said that to me? And given that he willingly let Lucifer use him? Yeah, I’ll handle it and…I’ll also handle keeping that little thing you asked me for before you crashed. If you feel up to it,” he added in the low, husky tone that never failed to make Sam shiver.

Sam could’ve rolled his eyes at that since it would take a lot more than feeling a little weak and slightly on edge to ever not feel up to making love with Dean. He opened his mouth to offer some remark to ease the building emotions he felt might be building when suddenly hot lips found him in a deep, searing kiss that left him breathless and shaking before it was over.

“You trusted me to help take your pain and fears away last night,” Dean murmured against his lips while drawing Sam’s bottom lip into his mouth to suck on it slowly while pushing himself up and over so he was levered over his brother’s body. “Do you trust me to do one more thing for you, baby boy?” he asked in a low, sex and honey coated voice.

“You know I do,” Sam gasped, fingers curling into the sheet rather than reach for what he wanted to touch yet. “But…we’re not alone here.”

Dean knew that. He knew normally they didn’t do anything like this unless he was sure they wouldn’t be walked in on. Well he’d made damn sure on that earlier but since he didn’t plan on telling Sam about the wards in his room he merely caught a handful of thick hair to give a gentle but firm tug that earned him the low moan he knew it would.

“Yeah, I know that,” he replied, lips curving into the slow sexy smirk that Dean reserved for Sam and only Sam and loving the almost shy smile he saw in return. “Now ask me if I give a damn?” he tossed out before their lips met in a kiss that was full of heat, need, and passion but not hard or rough.

Since the night Dean had finally given in and admitted the feelings he’d buried and hidden for Sam there had been plenty of times their sex had crossed from vanilla to a little rough. It was something they both were fine with but this time as Dean began to kiss his way from Sam’s mouth down his body he knew what he wanted and fast and rough wasn’t it.

By the time Sam’s brain readjusted from the heat of that kiss to how slow and deliberate his brother was being now after he’d kissed, licked and nibbled his way down to the bottom of the bed where Dean’s tall but lean body slid off so he could stand at the bottom and watch him, it clicked what this was and Sam had to work fast to hide the flash of raw emotion that almost came.

“No, don’t go there, Sammy,” Dean had still seen the look and knew what Sam was thinking even before he saw the wetness that filled deep hazel eyes that were mixed with various shades of blues and golds right then. “Regardless of what might happen today or tomorrow or whenever, this right here, what we do right now is not the end,” he said while flicking the button on his jeans open before easing the zipper down and seeing that Sam’s eyes had slowly moved to watch him intently. “This is me making love with the number one, stone cold most important person in my life and who I will fight to keep safe.”

“Will you fight to keep _you_ safe though, Dean?” Sam had to ask because he knew the answer to that without even seeing the slight change to his brother’s face. “When will we have to stop sacrificing so this damn world will survive? I guess never since Billie already said there’d be no Heaven for us so...”

“There will be Heaven when it’s time, Sammy,” Dean was careful to watch his words on that or else he knew his little brother would pitch one hell of a stubborn fit and he had plans that were not going to be delayed. “As for the rest? I think sacrificing is all we’ve ever known. I think normal would be alien to us now.”

Sam took that in with a grunt. He guessed that was true even if he wished it wasn’t that way. “Dean? If you could have ‘normal’, if you could go back and change anything…what would you want?” he asked while pushing up to his elbows so he could watch as his older brother slowly skimmed his jeans down his legs.

“I am clearly not doing enough to keep you distracted by sex if you want to have a deep meaningful conversation, Sammy,” Dean muttered with an eye roll so much like Sam’s that he remembered who had taught his brother that action to begin with.

“Oh, you’re doing a good job in the distracting me area,” Sam glanced down at the damp bulge showing on the boxer briefs he just realized was all he had on, cheeks going to a faint pink but looking back up at Dean’s low chuckle. “Tell me?”

Since he’d ditched his black t-shirt earlier, Dean left his own boxer briefs on for the moment while kneeling on his bed to lightly stroke his fingers along Sam’s ankle. Considering the question and if he wanted to risk opening either of them up to this much emotion right then, he felt the eyes watching him and knew even without looking Sam was doing pure puppy dog eyes; the one look he had no defense for yet.

“You happy,” he said after another moment of silence, lifting Sam’s leg so his lips could touch the ankle as Dean began a slow, torturous but oh so delicious path up long legs. “If I could have anything I’d want? It would be to have you happy in the normal apple pie life you wanted since you were a kid. I would want to see you smile without shadows of fears and memories you never should have been forced to have and maybe if I had been smart enough when I hit 18 and done what I originally planned you could’ve had that.”

That was not the answer Sam had been expecting so it took him a little bit to catch up. The lump in his throat made speaking impossible so he worked to settle done by watching as Dean kissed his way up each of his legs, from ankle to hip, before those hot lips settled in the V between thigh and groin since sometime his briefs had disappeared.

“Dean,” he whispered, fingers reaching this time and wasn’t surprised when they were caught and held; the amulet pressed between their palms while Dean continued to kiss over Sam’s body while also still speaking to him in the damn low emotional tone that also was just for Sam, and just when they were alone.

“Can I say I’d want to change being a hunter? I’m not sure since while I know I could’ve had more, could’ve gone on to that trade school or even college, shut up, I think my life had already been decided but when I think of what I’d want or that I could change, it’s always for you because you, my Sammy, are what keeps me fighting,” Dean glanced up when he felt Sam’s grip tighten on his hand and saw the tears on his brother’s cheek. “You asked, baby boy, and I promised honesty,” he said while reaching up to brush the tears away with his fingers. “And now, I get to turn that around and ask you the same thing. What would you want if you could change anything or have anything?”

“You, me in the Impala on the open road like it used to be before things got all fucked up and complicated,” Sam didn’t have to think long because he knew what he’d love to have; smiling when Dean looked up at him in obvious surprise. “Yeah, I wanted normal back then and maybe in some way I still do but…like you say, what is normal to us?

“Normal to me isn’t being a lawyer, or having a 9-to-5 office job now, Dean. Normal, I think to me, would be you and me in the Impala listening to those same five cassette tapes while we hunted wendigos or witches or spirits or even shifters,” he bit his lip while fighting not to arch his hips until the touch of skilled fingers teasing over his already red and hardening cock. “Normal to me is knowing you have my back while I have yours and I can always count on waking up to you.”

“Hmm, and on those ones there will never be a doubt,” Dean smiled, pressing a kiss to Sam’s hip while wondering how long it would be before his brother realized what he was doing in addition to kissing his way up and over his body.

By the time Sam heard Dean ask him to roll to his knees, the younger Winchester was certain he would not survive this slow, maddening form of love making his brother liked to do every now and then.

It had nearly did him in to watch the way Dean’s green eyes, glittering darker with lust and love, had locked on his while he kissed and gently teased each of his nipples before finally making his way back up until their mouths could touch.

Sam wanted to say he didn’t need more prep, that what he’d felt Dean do earlier while kissing his stomach and legs while also teasing his finger back under him until he’d found Sam’s tight puckered hole would be enough. He wanted to say that but knew better.

Easily rolling to his knees, it took Sam a little longer to get his balance back when his head seemed to spin a little too much and shrugged that off to whatever had been done the night before. He made a mental note to pin Crowley down on just what he or Rowena had done to help Dean but let that go to focus on not coming the second he felt the hard lean body press against his. “Dean…fuck…I really want to feel you soon.”

“Bossy,” Dean chuckled while gently continuing to open Sam with his fingers while also kissing along broad shoulders and down Sam’s back when he felt his brother go still the second his fingers touched the small of his back where one mark could still be lightly seen. “The brand Zach put on you, the one he made when he hurt you to make a point to me…it couldn’t be removed fully yet but…it can be over time,” he whispered softly, soothing his lips along Sam’s jaw to relax him again and then went back to kissing neck.

Dean’s eyes went harder as he let his tongue move over a small scar on Sam’s shoulder, feeling him tense and this time when he kissed that spot he closed his eyes while focusing on making sure any link still there was blocked. “I love you, Sammy,” he murmured, teeth grazing over the skin of Sam’s neck and shoulder before lightly nipping there and heard the low moan along with an interesting phrase in Latin. “Maybe next time, baby brother. I would really rather not break out the toys with the Creator of the Universe, a witch and the King of Hell in the bunker.”

Sam grinned, resting his forehead against the arm he’d folded on the wall above Dean’s bed. He felt the kiss as well as the light bite that he knew wouldn’t break the skin but it was also about then that he felt a warmth pass over his neck and along that spot on his shoulder a second before he felt Dean’s lips touch the same spots and Sam frowned slightly.

His body was on fire already as his cock dripped pre come steadily now from Dean’s slow prep work so Sam knew he’d been distracted a lot. Forcing himself to focus on something other than the feel of hot lips and calloused hands caressing him, the younger Winchester had a second to realize the low buzzing in the back of his head could no longer be felt along with the burn of few of those marks that had been taken away last night by Crowley and…

“Dean?” he spoke up softly, head dropping back to the shoulder Sam knew would be there for him. “Honesty, right?”

The tone as well as the way he’d felt Sam tense a moment ago while he’d been focused on making damn sure his brother’s mind and body was safe from intrusion or angels warned Dean that his often too damn smart for his own good little brother might not have been as out of it the night before as he’d first believed. “Yeah,” he replied easily, still working on stretching Sam open now with three fingers and this time Dean made sure to brush over his prostate just to feel and hear the reaction he loved to get.

“Fuck!” Sam gasped as his body lit up at the touch on that spot, having to fight not to thrust back or forward since his cock really wanted some attention right then. “Not fair distracting me like that, Dean.”

“Aren’t you the one who once said you could multi-task during anything, Sammy?” Dean teased, teeth catching the sensitive earlobe of the ear closest to him just so he could draw on it; knowing it was one of his brother’s more unique and sensitive spots. “Ask now because in just a couple more minutes I promise you won’t be thinking of much.”

Sam debated for a brief second before turning his head enough to see Dean was looking at him as if waiting, calm and patient. “Crowley and Rowena didn’t help you bring the sigils out, did they?” he asked as bits of things he’d heard from Michael in the Cage as well as things said between Castiel and Samuel Campbell came up in his memory.

“No,” Dean replied and then waited to see how Sam would handle that simple answer.

“Huh,” Sam grunted, considering this as well as the meaning or how he should feel about the possibilities he now had swirling in his head. “Do…I have to worry about you…overthrowing Crowley one time that my back is turned?” he asked instead of what they both knew he should have been asking.

Dean blinked in surprise and then slowly let his lips curve before leaning closer to kiss his brother fully, feeling Sam relax again and knew that any questions he had would wait for them to deal with the Darkness. “Not unless he touches you,” he whispered, giving a wink and then reached for the lube again to slick his well past ready cock up more. “You’re safe, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know that, Dean,” Sam did know that because he hadn’t felt anything from his brother like he had shortly after his return from Hell or Purgatory much less while he’d been battling the Mark of Cain. “I worry about you. Tell me about it sometime? But…not now?”

That made Dean laugh, the full and honest laugh that was rare to hear these days. “Yeah, I will,” he promised. “Ready?”

“Past,” Sam muttered which told his brother that he had pushed past the point where his patience was willing to wait any longer. “Kiss me?”

“Always, little brother,” Dean murmured and let his mouth catch Sam’s in a deep kiss at the same time as he worked the head of his cock past the rim of Sam’s ass, well stretched muscles giving way with ease after just a couple slow and gentle thrusts.

Dean’s own body felt the way he figured Sam’s did. He’d worked hard to keep control, to not rush or allow the need for more to make him go faster than he wanted to give his brother this time.

He’d wanted to give Sam comfort, love, and tenderness which was something the hunter knew he didn’t always show too much of to the younger man. Given the stress of recent weeks, the worry of what was to come it was hard for him to not give in to the need now burning thru him; to thrust and take but it had rarely been that way between them.

Dean always made sure Sam got pleasure, and plenty of it, when they made love. He made certain now with each thrust he made that his cock hit that spot inside his brother that made him cry out usually in Latin if Dean did it right and when he thrust this time he had to smile because he was also pretty damn certain Crowley might have just been exorcised out of the bunker with this string of mindless Latin.

“Dean…fuck!” Sam’s brain was now mush and he knew it. He was moving in perfect rhythm to his brother’s thrusts. He wanted to touch his cock but fought the urge to keep his hands off even before he heard the low growl in his ear of ‘mine’. “Need…De’n…need to come! Please…let…oh God!” he groaned when he felt warm lips on his throat at the same time as strong fingers wrapped around his cock. “Dean!”

“I’ve got you, Sammy. I will always have you and take care of you,” Dean whispered tightly, voice deeper, huskier from a sudden rush of emotions as he watched Sam’s face with each thrust he made and now as he began to stroke his cock from base to tip like he knew was the way Sam enjoyed it. “You can come for me whenever you want, baby boy.”

Sam couldn’t be sure if it was the use of the one nickname that was only usually used when they were intimate, the feel of a skilled fingertip going up the sensitive nerve on the underside of his cock or a combination of the two in addition to his body being strung out with desire.

All he knew was it only took a second more before he felt his heavy balls tighten and then he felt his climax hit him like a freight train as he came hard and fast with a scream of his brother’s name. “ _Dean_!”

“Yahtzee,” Dean kept his eyes on Sam’s face as he pressed his chest to Sam’s back, watching the way his face changed, softened as he worked past the orgasm; reminding Dean that despite all the pain and misery his brother had suffered over the years that there were moments when he still looked young and innocent. “Love you,” he whispered before kissing Sam slowly, tenderly without heat or tongue.

Shuddering in Dean’s arms as he reached the height of his climax, Sam heard the words, felt the kiss deepen right before he heard a soft groan, felt Dean jerk and then let himself go over the edge at the feel of warmth filling him as Dean’s own orgasm hit right then.

Holding back until he thought Sam was right at the edge of his own climax, he felt inner muscles tighten around him and then let himself fall.

The time when they shared this moment was the one Dean worked to always focus on. Needing to burn the blissful look on Sam’s face as he held him back against him while working his own orgasm and still helping to milk Sam’s for all it was worth into his memory.

The hunter knew the time would come soon where he would have to let go of this young man and he had to make these moments, all the moment he had with Sam, count while making certain this time Sam would be better prepared for life on his own.

Feeling and tasting tears when he kissed Sam’s face, Dean wasn’t certain if they were Sam’s or his own since he’d felt them drop as he forced those thoughts out of his head for the moment, unwilling to allow them to darken this for either of them.

Dean was just giving another thrust of his hips when he heard the low whimper from Sam that told him that his now softening cock was too sensitive to touch so he gently eased his hand away while knowing on instinct to tighten his other one a moment before he heard Sam mumble something to him and then caught a flash of white before his eyes rolled back.

“I love you too, Sammy,” he whispered back, glad his brother wouldn’t hear the tears in his voice as he worked to clear them and his mind while also supporting them both when Sam’s body became dead weight in his arms. “And I will be here when you wake up.”

The beat of a strong heart under his ear, the strength of familiar arms wrapped around him, the sound of low classic rock playing in the background and gentle fingers carding back through his hair was what a blissfully sexed out and still sleepy Sam woke up to.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d slept since the force of his orgasm knocked him out on his ass but a look told him that in the time he’d been out, his brother had wiped them both off and had managed to get him into a clean pair of sleep pants while donning a pair himself before holding him.

Dean had always said he didn’t cuddle but Sam couldn’t honestly recall a time when he hadn’t held him after they’d made love or let Sam use him for a pillow afterward.

“You waking up a little for me, kiddo, or should I be worried something I did really did break you?” Dean’s voice was soft, relaxed but the concern was there.

Sam blinked a few times to clear his eyes, lifting his head to look up for his brother’s eyes and immediately met the kiss he knew would be waiting for him. Groaning softly into the slow kiss, he moved his hand up Dean’s chest and found his fingers curling around the amulet that was back around his neck. “Good…if it morning or afternoon?” he asked with a slow smile that showed Dean that he was alright.

“Honestly not sure and I honestly don’t give a crap since it’s been too damn long since you’ve slept peacefully,” Dean did know what time it was because he’d growled at the text message a grumbling demon had sent him after bitching about Sam nearly exorcising him out during their bout of wild and crazy sex. “Though…maybe no more Latin during sex while Crowley’s around? He seemed to take offense that he was almost smoked out.”

“God,” Sam groaned when this dawn on him, burying his face against his laughing brother’s chest.

“No, Chuck and Rowena apparently spent the night discussing our sex lives and which one of us bottoms or if we use padded cuffs or the real things,” Dean bit the inside of his mouth to keep from smiling as he gave his blushing brother an account of what Crowley told him in text had been discussed between his mother and God.

“And while you’re already mortified I’ll warn you now that…I didn’t know you had that sex tape of us in the dungeon on your laptop but I do now because Chuck got his hands on it after I told him to stay off of mine so Rowena has some...fine tips she wants to give you.”

Sam was now certain he was never leaving the bedroom or that death at the hands of Amara might not be so bad when he realized Dean was actually laughing and not angry. “Are you teasing me or telling me the truth?” he asked warily, groaning at Dean’s smirk because he knew he should’ve locked his laptop up somewhere safer than the safe in the library. “Ummm…was that the only video they got into on there or…”

“What the hell do you have on that thing, Sammy?” Dean hadn’t been thrilled but he was amused to see his brother blush. Now he was curious as to what the hell else might be on his brother’s laptop…until he recalled one night that involved too much liquor for both of them, the Impala and a couple costume items from deep inside the bunker. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed but slowly relaxed again at the feel of fingers rubbing along his arm. “We can’t stay here and just let it all go, can we?” he asked hopefully but knew the answer before Dean grunted. “I know. I’m scared, Dean,” he admitted softly.

Dean was too but he wouldn’t admit that to Sam yet. “We’ll handle it, Sammy. We always do,” he did say and hoped he could pull that tone off later when it counted. “Go to sleep or…go rescue your laptop?”

Sam wanted to sleep. He wanted to keep this quiet moment they had for as long as he could but he also knew they had work to do and so blew out a breath. “Let me shower and change?” he asked, meeting and returning the slightly deeper kiss.

“Yeah, go do that and I’ll throw on a pair of jeans and go threaten that little witch with a bonfire if anything she saw ever gets past these walls,” Dean figured Crowley had already done that but there was something he wanted to do before Sam joined them.

Catching Sam by the shoulder when he saw him tilt a little too much, he held his grip and his tongue until seeing Sam nod that he was fine.

Waiting until Sam had gone to take a shower, Dean quickly changed. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, touched the amulet that once again hung around his neck and chose to leave it there rather than put it in his pocket like it had been since getting it back.

Grabbing something else that he did stick in his pocket, he headed for the map room to hear Crowley bellowing about images that he would not ever unsee and did not want details about while Rowena made an interesting comment that she had no idea that Sam would ever be so bendy with his long legs.

“Okay, enough sex talk now and let us never say how bendy my brother is since that’s something only I get to say or see,” Dean shot out to the smiling witch while Chuck was bent over in front of Sam’s laptop. “And that’ll be enough porn for the two of…oh sweet Jesus, when the hell did he get that on tape?” he’d faltered when he’d seen what was on the screen and decided that he would be pouring over Sam’s laptop the first free moment he had.

Slapping the top closed, Dean shoved the laptop into a drawer in the desk in the room for later before eyeing the others firmly when he chose to let his gaze land on Castiel.

“Any power you had for any type of spell he could feel has now been nulled,” he began seriously, ignoring the attempt to explain. “No. I know why you did it. I know why he was so screwed up with the Campbell’s in addition to not having a soul. I saw his thoughts. I felt your power on him. It’s done. He’s clean. If I ever feel it again…you die. Simple.”

Castiel knew enough to merely nod when suddenly he felt his face once again implode with pain from a punch that came from a merely reacting young hunter. Instinct had him starting to move until the feel of a blade touched his throat.

“Lash back out at him, you die sooner,” Dean warned while stepping in front of Sam who he had known would probably react like that as soon as he saw Castiel, given not only recent events but past ones as well. “You good now, little brother?” he asked, looking back slowly to see the hate on Sam’s face slowly fade to disgust before he nodded.

“Yeah, for now,” Sam had tried to not go for the angel’s throat but it was hard the moment he stepped into the map room and saw him, memories of recently hitting him and a punch was all he knew he had time for at the moment. “After?”

“Yeah, after we deal with Amara I’ll explain the new rules and how he’s not welcome,” Dean smirked at Castiel but stayed where he was until Sam was suddenly distracted by a curious and too sweet talking Rowena. “You think I will still let you be here after I just spent the longest damn night of my life helping him cope with something you could’ve stopped or at least avoided?” he shook his head, stepping back to start to turn but paused. “After this with Amara, you can go back to Heaven, you can…go get your ass kicked by Jodi for trying to see Claire. I don’t care, Cas. You are out of our lives and…hey! I thought I said no sex talk!”

Ignoring the sputtering angel who was still trying to excuse his choices, Dean let his hand rest on the back of Sam’s neck as his blushing brother did his best to ignore Rowena’s helpful comments on how best to not throw his back out doing a few of those bendy things.

“Okay, so…let’s talk about the Darkness…”

**The End**


End file.
